


Tangled Up In You

by notsodarling



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 09:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18247415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsodarling/pseuds/notsodarling
Summary: "But now, staring at the plans for an actual spaceship, Alex didn't know how to process it. That Michael had, for years, even before Alex, plans of rebuilding and leaving the planet. And Alex wasn't even sure he could blame Michael, considering his childhood, and what humanity clearly looked like then."





	Tangled Up In You

**Author's Note:**

> So yesterday I thought I'd try to write some fluff to tide me over until the new episode tonight.
> 
> This is not exactly fluff, but not exactly angst. Just a lot of what's been swirling around in my head about how the boys talk might go.
> 
> Title from "Collide" by Howie Day.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

_I want to know who you are, Guerin._

 

Alex knew, as soon as he'd said the words, that he meant them. Even after everything his father had said, everything he'd learned about the 1947 UFO crash, and how Michael was possibly related to all of it, Alex still wanted to know. Because this bone deep, all encompassing feeling he had, this _cosmic_ pull he felt toward Michael, mattered so much more than the fact that Michael may not be entirely human. His father had tried to say it should matter, that Michael was dangerous, but Alex knew that could never be the case.

 

Logically, analytically, Alex was aware this was not how a soldier would approach the situation. But Kyle had been right, this wasn't a war. Alex didn't need to have backup in order to talk to Michael. They just needed to finally know each other, and get the chance to have the kind of relationship they should have had 10 years ago.

 

Alex lost count of how many times his heart broke for the man sitting across from him, baring his soul and his past - it had not been easy listening to Michael talk about being left behind when the Evans twins got adopted, or the abuse he had faced in the foster homes he was placed. But the more Alex listened, the more things started to fall into place, and make sense. He saw why Michael had chosen at seventeen to live out of his truck, why he hadn't quite understood the kindness Alex had offered in regards to the shed being a safe place to go on a chilly night, or the guitar Alex had let him use.

 

But now, staring at the plans for an actual _spaceship_ , Alex didn't know how to process it. That Michael had, for years, even before Alex, plans of rebuilding and leaving the planet. And Alex wasn't even sure he could blame Michael, considering his childhood, and what humanity clearly looked like then.

 

But it also hurt something deep inside Alex, that Michael believed running away, leaving the planet, was the only was to be loved and cared for. Alex had shared his own stories with Michael, why his mom wasn't around, when Jesse Manes had turned from a loving father to an abusive, homophobic asshole who preferred to beat his son. How instead of isolating himself, Alex had still sought comfort in his friends, because Liz and Maria were still important in his life, and he would never, _could never_ , just up and disappear on them. Yes, there was bad in humanity, Alex was intimately familiar with that, but there was also good.

 

Weren't there still people worth staying around for?

 

“Why are you showing me this?” Alex asked, studying the carefully drawn out mechanical engineering plans laying on the light table. Michael was watching him from the other side, a look of fondness and love that Alex could never look away from, as though Michael was pulling Alex into his orbit, and Alex was powerless to the magnetic pull it created.

 

“I'm tired of secrets.”

 

So was Alex. That's why he was here, trying to do the brave thing. That's why he had made the decision to stay, even as it terrified him. But he needed to know, he wanted to know. Because no matter what way he looked at the data, all the information Project Shepard had on the crash, Alex still felt that connection to Michael Guerin. No matter how many times he tried to deny it, every time he'd let some little insignificant detail take over and consume him, he knew that he loved Michael. He'd sat in the bunker with Kyle, discussing alien serial killers, and still he hadn't questioned that he loved Michael. Walking away at the drive-in all those weeks ago, all because of one remark by his father, still tore Alex up. That he'd let his father, _of all people_ , get inside his head and push Michael away.

 

But this, Alex was having trouble reconciling. How was he supposed to believe Michael still loved him, had loved him, when he was still planning on leaving?

 

“Were you just gonna leave?”

 

Alex finally looks up, dropping the plans back on the table, and sees a confused look at Michael's face. There are unshed tears in his eyes, and Alex hates that they've both been walking around, talking, with glossy eyes the entire time. There's so many emotions and feelings swirling around in the space between them, that Alex doesn't know how this is going to go. But he can't be the sole reason Michael ever decides to stay, and he's clearly never been enough in the past either.

 

And that revelation truly hurts the most.

 

“I didn't lie to you. Not about us.”

 

Alex wipes at his eyes, because how can that be true when the evidence is staring up at him from the drafting tables and from the plans taped up all over the walls? The feeling starts small, but Alex recognizes it, is too familiar with it, and immediately moves toward the ladder leading up and out of the bunker. He just needs to not be in an enclosed space.

 

“Alex?” Michael calls out as Alex starts climbing the ladder, but Alex can't stop, he keeps moving until the sun is shining down on his face again, and he's sitting on the wooden plank that serves as a front stoop for the Airstream. Alex sits there, head between his knees, breathing deep, trying to calm himself before this turns into a full blown panic attack.

 

Alex can't deal with being the reason Michael ever decides to stay. He can't bear that amount of responsibility for one person. He's still figuring out his own shit - hell, he'd had enough problems getting himself here, asking for them to get to know one another. He hadn't expected the _actual conversation_ part to be the easiest aspect of today.

 

Several more deep breaths, and Alex finally feels some semblance of control returning to him. He doesn't feel Michael's presence but Alex knows, even before picking his head up, that Michael is nearby, giving him the space be needs to work through this. And that knowledge, that even after everything, even after Alex has continually hurt Michael, demanded space, walked away - no one understands what Alex needs more than Michael. It doesn't make sense, why they fit together, why they've always just been able to read each other and know what the other needs, or, how to hurt the other in the worst and most painful way.

 

Maybe Michael's word for it - _cosmic_ \- is right, but it still frightens Alex.

 

“Alex?”

 

When Alex finally picks his head up, he sees Michael sitting on top of the closed hatch to the bunker, waiting, curls gently swaying in the breeze, and Alex is consumed by how much he wishes it could be like when they were seventeen and nothing else mattered.

 

“I'm not- Guerin, this is-” Alex stops because his thoughts are a _mess_. “I can't be the reason - the only reason - you stay here.”

 

Michael is frowning at Alex's words, but he doesn't object right away, just watches Alex for a moment with those big, beautiful brown eyes.

 

“I don't _hate_ it here like I used to,” he finally admits, still looking straight at Alex. “Just gave me something to focus on. To quiet the chaos.”

 

Alex's gaze immediately goes to Michael's hand, and he realizes of all the things they spoke about today, all the topics they've covered, Michael's hand, the shed, and the aftermath, weren't one of them. He recalls the night in the shed, of Michael talking about _quiet_ , and _chaos_ , and _entropy_ , and Alex being unable to think about anything except the pull he felt toward Michael, of being overcome with the urge to know what Michael's lips felt against his.

 

“And this?” Michael says, lifting his hand, noticing Alex's gaze. “I have _never_ blamed you for this.”

 

“You should-”

 

“No,” Michael cuts him off, his voice hard.

 

“But if we hadn't-”

 

“Alex, stop!” And he does, tearing his gaze away from Michael's, fixating instead at a point in the dirt, because this is too much. “You are not responsible for what happened. You are not responsible for my choices over the past 10 years.”

 

“I did though,” Alex replies, his voice quiet and he's not even sure if Michael can hear him. “I was the reason you were even there.”

 

The laugh Michael emits in response isn't funny, there's an air of frustration to it, like he doesn't know how else to react. It reminds Alex of all the times Michael has turned to sarcasm when he hasn't been able to handle a situation, shutting down and protecting himself the way Alex chooses to remove himself completely from the situation. But Michael doesn't say anything, he just stares straight ahead at Alex and shrugs, and Alex feels like he can't breath. It's not another panic attack, it's something different, part of these feelings between them that can't be explained, and Alex realizes it's the same feeling he had in the bunker, when he'd discovered his father was targeting Michael.

 

It's protection. It's love.

 

“Michael?”

 

Alex lets the first name slip, he hasn't called Michael by it since that day in the shed, letting it slip out in between the kissing, and the touching, and the learning of each other's bodies, the press of skin against skin, and the overwhelming want and need where nothing else in the world existed except the two of them.

 

“I wouldn't hesitate to do it again either.”

 

Alex rolls his eyes, needing to stop the tears in his eyes from falling in response to the enormity of Michael's words. There's still so much to process, and Alex knows he can't stay here much longer. He needs to, not leave, not walk away, but time. Time to process and understand, not because it will ever change how he feels, but because there is just so much they've said to each other today, a baring of souls almost. Ten years hasn't diminished this feeling between them, the love, affection they feel for one another, and Alex knows he doesn't need that long now, but hopes Michael will understand.

 

This isn't Alex walking away to go to join the Air Force, and this isn't Alex walking away from Michael at the drive in because his father managed to get inside his head and believe things about Michael that aren't true.

 

“Can I be the one to give Maria her necklace back?”

 

This is Alex taking a step forward, and being brave. Of not letting others dictate how he feels or what he feels. Perhaps also, it's a little step back in the direction of that boy he was at seventeen, when he didn't care who knew he was gay, when he didn't care that people judged him for his clothes, his jewelry, his piercings. And it's going to start with a person he should have been honest with a long time ago. Because Maria has never been anything except a friend, encouraging him to just live his own truth. And maybe it's time to tell her about the boy Alex has never been able to stop thinking about, the boy who kissed him in the museum and made Alex want to stay in Roswell for the first time in his life.

 

Michael stands up on the cover to the bunker, and digs the necklace out of his pocket. Alex uses the opportunity to push himself up, and closes the space between them, reaching out and wrapping his hand around the piece of jewelry, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket before glancing up and meeting Michael's gaze.

 

“I'm not walking away, and this isn't goodbye.”

 

Alex reaches out slowly, carefully, cupping Michael's face in his hands, letting his fingers wrap around the curls at the base of his neck before leaning forward and pressing his forehead to Michael's, breathing him in.

 

“I know,” Michael whispers into the space between them, his hands cupping Alex's face, his thumbs rubbing comforting patterns across Alex's skin.

 

Alex wonders, not for the first time, and definitely not for the last, that maybe one day, eventually, if they will become that _home_ for each other that Maria had mentioned all those weeks ago. It's the first time in a long time that Alex allows himself to feel hope.

**Author's Note:**

> So the original thought was to try and write some Alex & Maria - especially after I had so much fun writing Michael & Maria. So now that's sitting in my sad WIP folder, that I may or may not explore again another day.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
